Pausing an Obsession.

As some of you know, I never jumped aboard the Harry Potter bandwagon. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I just didn’t “get it.” I read the first two books in the series – and yes, maybe one day I’ll get around to the third title - and maybe, just maybe, I’ll suddenly find myself hooked and wonder what took so long in the first place. But I kind of doubt it. Like I said, with no offense meant toward Ms. Rowling herself, Harry Potter, or any of his fans, I just never caught the spark of that obsession.

In fact, the same thing happened with the (ugh) Twilight books. Sure, I’ll defend Robert Pattinson’s dreaminess any day of the week, but those books every other female on the planet devoured so quickly? No dice. In fact, when I reached the point where I decided sticking forks in my eyeballs might be more fun than reading anymore of Stephanie Meyer’s unedited ramblings I decided to just go ahead and call it quits. It was time to accept the fact that I wasn’t going to “get” this trend either.

So you can imagine, when a friend of mine suggested I read The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins because it was “so good, you will not be able to stop reading it, it’s fascinating and also amazing” I was a tad skeptical. Truthfully, I probably would have drug my heels even more in regards to picking up a copy of the first book out of sheer stubbornness except for the fact that it became a book club selection in September.

You might recall that I mentioned my (growing) obsession a tiny bit earlier this Fall. But really, what I want to tell you – what I want to make very clear is: you must read this book. Because it is in fact, “so good, you will not be able to stop reading it; it’s fascinating and also amazing.” No really. It is. I cross my heart that after the first chapter or two you will stop thinking about important things like eating and sleeping. All you will want to do is READ.

I just finished the second book in the series, Catching Fire, on Monday night. So now it’s on to the third and final book, Mockingjay.

But here’s the catch. Mockingjay is the final book in the trilogy. When I finished The Hunger Games, I didn’t have a copy of Catching Fire at home so I made myself read a few other books in between. Then a friend loaned me both Catching Fire and Mockingjay simultaneously; which means, as I type this, I am glancing over my left shoulder, looking at the book that holds all that’s left of the trilogy and wondering how long I can restrain myself before cracking it open.

Catching Fire was like the Saturday of a weekend. You can fully enjoy every minute because you know you’ve still got Sunday ahead of you as well. I didn’t mind (not that I could have helped myself) plowing through it because I knew, all along, that I had a third book waiting for me – one that promised to be just as fulfilling as the previous two.

But now? Now it’s Sunday. And while there’s a part of me that is dying to scurry home, pull on comfy clothes, and not move from my couch until I’ve finished the book, there is another side of me that knows I need to take a deep breath and force myself to take a little break. Because it’s all going to be over far, far too soon. And then where will I be?

So I finally get it, Harry Potter fans. I never stood in line with you at midnight, I wasn’t part of the masses reading book 7 in hardcover. I’ve only ever seen the first movie. I have no solid opinions on characters, plot lines, or endings.

But these Hunger Games? With them, I am a true believer.